Dying to Kill (Angel Delaney Mysteries Book #2) Page 8

  “Whether she’s guilty or not, she needs an attorney.”

  “Which is why I’m here.” Angel let her gaze wander to the large stained-glass window at the front of the church—the one that had fascinated and warmed her since childhood.

  “Are you sure she doesn’t already have one?”

  “I doubt it.” She looked back at Rachael.

  “All right. Tell you what. Let’s go talk to her, and afterward you can buy me a latte.”

  “Deal. Do you want to meet me there or go in my car?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll go with you. My bucket of bolts needs a tune-up—it barely managed to get me to work this morning. Tim offered to take it to his mechanic this afternoon.”

  “That would be Mitch Bailey?”

  “Right.” She frowned. “Is there a problem?”

  “No,” Angel said quickly. “He’s good.” She thought it best not to say anything about Mitch being the owner of the abandoned car Callen had mentioned. She doubted Callen would want the information made public at this point. “Let’s go.” Angel grabbed the pew in front of her and pulled herself up.

  “I have to pick up my briefcase. I’ll meet you at the car.”

  It took about four minutes to drive from the church to city hall and find a place to park. City hall was situated at one end of the courthouse, along with judicial offices, the police department, and a small jail. They went into the door at the north entrance that led to the police department and the jail. Angel stopped at the front desk to greet the receptionist, Rosie Gonzalez.

  Rosie buzzed them in and pulled Angel into a bear hug. “It is so good to see you, girl. Where have you been? Just because you got some time off doesn’t mean you can’t come around here now and then. Are you doing okay? Tell me you’re here because you want to come back to work early.”

  Angel laughed. “It’s good to see you too, and I’m doing okay.” Rosie had a velvety smooth Southern drawl. She and Nick had been dating for several weeks, and Rosie, who’d been drooling over Angel’s brothers for years, now seemed content.

  “And the job?” Rosie looked hopeful.

  “Sorry.” She introduced Rachael. “We’re here to see Candace Jenkins. I understand Nick arrested her this morning.”

  “Uh-huh.” Rosie shook her head. “That is one sad story.”

  “What happened?” Angel asked, hoping her friend might share some pertinent information.

  “She claims she came home and found her husband dead. Her prints were on the gun, and they found gun residue on her hands. She apparently put the gun in his hand to make it look like a suicide. Can you believe that? Then she cleans up the place.”

  Angel wasn’t really surprised at the prints or the gun residue. Candace had probably touched the gun while she was cleaning up the scene. “Is there any other evidence to implicate her?”

  “You’d have to ask Nick. He questioned her and scheduled her for a lie detector test tomorrow.”

  “Where is Nick now?” Angel asked.

  “Out at the Jenkins’s farm. He went to see how the lab techs were doing.”

  “They’re still not finished?” Angel leaned an elbow on the counter.

  “Not quite.” Rosie shrugged. “Guess they’re still going over the vehicles.”

  “We’d like to see Mrs. Jenkins,” Rachael said. “I assume she can have visitors?”

  “Sure.” Rosie turned back to Angel. “What’s your interest in this?”

  “Candace called me to come out there after she found him dead. I called it in.”

  Rosie raised her eyebrows. “Strange. Why didn’t she call herself?”

  “I don’t know. Fear, maybe. She told me she thought he’d killed himself. Maybe she just didn’t know what to do. I brought Candace and her kids to my mother’s place last night. Ma is pretty upset about the arrest. Figured the least we could do was get her a lawyer.”

  Rosie nodded. “Go on through. I’ll call the jail and let them know you’re coming.”

  “So Nick made a formal arrest.” Rachael hesitated. “He didn’t just bring her in for questioning?”

  “Nick says this is an open-and-shut case.” Rosie went back to her desk. “I think he’s right. I mean, who else would have done it? She had motive, means, and opportunity.”

  “Rosie . . .” Angel leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk. “Do we have an estimated time of death?”

  “Yes. Between 1:00 and 3:00 p.m.”

  “Then Candace couldn’t have done it. She told me she’d gone shopping and then picked up the kids from school.”

  “Well, she did that.” Rosie shuffled through some papers and picked one out of the pile. “Nick had me check out her alibi. She had a receipt for the grocery store that put her in the store at 1:30, then she went to Joanie’s for coffee. Joanie verified that, but she left right away—about 1:40. She didn’t pick up the kids from school until 2:45. That’s over an hour unaccounted for. Candace claims she went to the beach to read, but she can’t prove it.”

  “Have you talked to Candace?” Angel asked.

  Rosie nodded. “Just briefly when Nick brought her in. She looked pretty shaken up. Worried about her kids.”

  Rachael frowned. “She hasn’t confessed, has she?”

  “Not that I know of, but I have a feeling she will when Nick talks to her about the evidence they’ve uncovered.”

  “He’s not planning to talk to her without her lawyer present, I hope?” Rachael seemed annoyed that the woman had been questioned at all.

  “She hasn’t asked for a lawyer,” Rosie said. “Candace seemed like such a nice gal. Hard to picture her killing anyone, but it sure doesn’t look good for her.”

  THIRTEEN

  Angel and Rachael passed through the doorway leading to the jail. Once they’d gone through the security checkpoint, they were ushered into a small interview room.

  A guard led Candace in several minutes later. She wore an orange uniform that washed out her already pale skin. The guard seated her at the table across from Rachael and Angel, then stationed herself just outside the door.

  Tears gathered in Candace’s eyes as she looked from Angel to Rachael. “I didn’t kill him. Why won’t anyone believe me?”

  Angel didn’t know how to answer. She wanted to believe Candace, but according to Rosie, Nick thought they had sufficient evidence against her. “Have you called a lawyer?”

  “No. They told me I could, but I don’t know anyone.”

  “I do.” Angel nodded toward Rachael. “Candace, meet my friend Rachael Rastovski.”

  “You’re a lawyer?” Candace met Rachael’s eyes, then looked away.

  “I am. And if you want me to represent you, I will.” She glanced at Angel. “To answer your question, Candace, I want to believe you. Give me a reason why I should.”

  “I can’t give you a reason other than I’m innocent. I would like to hire you. I have money—I can pay whatever it costs. Phillip had a good life insurance policy and his business was doing well.”

  She won’t get a dime of that insurance money if she’s a murder suspect. Angel hoped that wasn’t the case.

  “All right. From now on, I don’t want you to say anything to the police,” Rachael told her. “If they want to question you, have them call me. As soon as we’re finished, I’m going over to the DA’s office and see exactly what they have. First, though, I have a few questions.” Rachael glanced at Angel. “Just one thing before we get started. Angel can be compelled to testify about what you say. She doesn’t hold the confidentiality status of a priest or lawyer. If you say something that implicates you, Angel could be made to testify.”

  “Are you saying I should leave?” Angel asked.

  “It might be best,” Rachael answered.

  “No. I want her to stay. Please.” Candace raised her head and straightened her shoulders.

  “All right. I just wanted you to be aware.”

  Candace nodded. “Did Angel tell you what happened? That I cle
aned things up after I found Phillip? I know now I shouldn’t have touched anything, but at the time . . . I don’t know what possessed me.” She glanced down at her clenched hands. “I just couldn’t let people see the house all messy like that.”

  “Angel told me, but even without cleaning things up, you would have been a suspect. This only gives the DA more ammunition. And you may have destroyed evidence that could have cleared you and perhaps even told the police who actually killed him.”

  “Why did you clean up?” Angel asked.

  “I—I had to. The floor was dirty. Someone had tracked in mud. And there was blood. I couldn’t let them think I was a bad housekeeper. Phillip was so particular, you know. I didn’t think about the evidence. I thought he’d killed himself and I just wanted to fix up everything.”

  “Did you recognize the footprints?” Angel persisted.

  Candace’s eyes widened as she sucked in a sharp breath. “No! What are you talking about?”

  “Were they Gracie’s?”

  Candace leaped to her feet, mad as a mother bear with a cub in trouble. “How dare you? How dare you come in here and accuse my Gracie? I thought you were my friend.”

  “Take it easy.” Angel stood up and held out a hand. “I’m not accusing Gracie of anything. I’m just trying to get a better picture of what happened.”

  The guard opened the door and took a step inside. “You need some help?”

  “It’s okay.” Rachael waved her away and gave Angel a “stifle yourself” look. Turning to Candace, she said, “Sit down.”

  Candace complied. “Gracie was at school.”

  “Where are you going with this, Angel?” Rachael tapped her pen on the pad.

  Angel looked at Candace. “I’m trying to understand your motivation and piece together what happened. If the police do any investigating at all, they’re going to find out what I have. And they’ll see that you aren’t the only one with motive, means, and opportunity.” Angel lowered herself into the chair again. “I think Gracie went home yesterday between noon and 2:00.”

  “No! That’s impossible.” Candace pressed her fist to her mouth.

  “I know she skipped study hall and she wasn’t at the library. I also know that Phillip wasn’t her birth father.”

  Candace leaned back and closed her eyes. “Gracie didn’t like Phillip, that’s true, but she wouldn’t kill him. Last night she told me she had to go home to get a paper she’d forgotten. Phillip was fine when she left.” Straightening again, she asked, “Have you told the police about Gracie?”

  “Not yet,” Angel said.

  “Well, don’t. If you do, I’ll tell them I did it.”

  “All right, then,” Rachael said. “Give us some idea of who else might have been at the house.”

  “I can’t. I have no idea. Phillip wasn’t expecting anyone that I know of.” Candace folded her long, thin arms on the table and lowered her head to them. “If I have to stay here, what’s going to happen to my children?”

  “The kids will be fine,” Angel assured her. “My mother will see to that. They wanted to go to school this morning, so I took them.”

  Candace hauled in a deep breath, working to regain her composure.

  “Did your husband have any enemies?” Rachael asked. “Anyone who might want to see him dead?”

  “Officer Caldwell asked me that. I can’t think of anyone. He’s had some people mad at him from time to time. He was a contractor and owed his subcontractors money, but they always got paid. You know how it is . . . you have to wait until someone pays you in order to pay someone else. It would be stupid to kill someone who owed you money. If they were dead, you might never get it.”

  Angel nodded. “This morning Gracie mentioned that Phillip had a nephew who wanted to borrow money. She indicated that this nephew might have taken one of Phillip’s guns.”

  With a short, unpolished fingernail, Candace traced a name someone had carved into the table. “That would be Darryl. He didn’t take the gun. We thought he had, but Phillip found it the next day. He’d been cleaning it and hadn’t put it back in the gun case. That was the last time Phillip . . .”

  “Beat you up?” Angel finished the sentence when it didn’t look like Candace would. “Was that the time Gracie called the police and I responded?”

  “Yes. She was afraid Phillip would hurt me.”

  “Which he did.”

  “Yes, but he apologized.”

  “I’m sure he did.” Angel folded her arms. “So tell us more about Darryl.”

  “He comes around every week or so. Sometimes he comes to visit, other times to borrow money.”

  “Did Phillip lend it to him?”

  “Usually, though he didn’t call it a loan. Phillip preferred to call it a gift—that way if Darryl paid him back, great, if not, that was okay too.” She hesitated. “The last time he wanted money, Phillip told him no. Phillip was afraid Darryl was gambling too much. Darryl was pretty upset when he left, but . . . I don’t think he killed his uncle.”

  Rachael jotted the information on her notepad. “Where does Darryl live?”

  “Here in Sunset Cove. Um, I don’t have the exact address. He has an old travel trailer, so he’s probably in one of the parks. He hasn’t been here long—six months, maybe. He came from California like we did.” She rubbed at the goose bumps on her arm.

  The room was too cool for short sleeves. Maybe the guard could see that she got a sweater. “Anything else we should know about him? Had he and Phillip argued recently?” Angel asked. “Did they get along?”

  “They usually got along well. Darryl’s dad deserted the family. Phillip never forgave his brother for that. He felt obligated to be a father figure. Phillip gave him a job and loaned him enough for rent. He also let him use his motorcycle so he’d be able to get around. Darryl isn’t a bad kid, just a little mixed up.”

  “Mixed up?” Angel repeated. “In what way?”

  “Choices. Like a lot of kids, he does some drinking and maybe drugs, gambles a little. Phillip got on him for all that.”

  “And how did he react to Phillip’s parental role?”

  “Good, actually. I think Darryl likes the fact that someone cares that much about him. He wanted to get straight. It was hard for him, and Phillip understood that all too well.”

  “When was the last time you saw him?”

  “Last week.”

  “Any chance he might have been there yesterday?”

  She shrugged. “I suppose he could have come while I was gone. You don’t think he killed Phillip, do you?”

  Rachael looked at Angel and nodded. “We have our work cut out for us, but we’ll find out.” Rachael pulled a card out of her pocket and handed it to Candace. “If you think of anything, give me a call.”

  “Like what?” Candace stared at the card. “I’ve already told you all I know.”

  “Maybe, but there are little things you might remember. Did you pass a car going home yesterday afternoon? Has Phillip had any confrontations with anyone lately? Any unusual comments he may have said to anyone—that sort of thing.”

  Candace nodded. “All right. I’ll think about it. Thanks for your help.”

  Angel stood. “One more thing. Was Phillip right- or left-handed?”

  “Right.”

  “The gun was in his left hand.”

  “I—I didn’t notice. I put it back the way it was.” She covered her eyes. “It was so awful. I just wanted to get it done. Whether he was right- or left-handed didn’t even occur to me. Why? Is that important?”

  “I don’t know. It might be useful information later on.”

  Angel and Rachael stood up to leave, and Angel alerted the guard that they were leaving. The guard came and led Candace out first.

  “Wait!” Anxious and tearful, Candace turned back to them. “The animals. Someone needs to feed and water them. They’re probably starving by now. We feed them at around 6:00 in the morning and in the evening.”

  “I’ll tak
e care of it,” Angel volunteered.

  “Thank you.” Candace tipped her head down and plodded ahead of the guard.

  “She’s the real victim in all of this,” Rachael said as the door shut and locked behind them. “She and the children.”

  “Let’s hope you can get her out of jail and keep her out.”

  FOURTEEN

  What was that work thing all about?” Angel buckled her seat belt and turned the key in the ignition.

  “What?”

  “You told Candace that we had a lot of work to do. What did you mean by that?”

  Rachael tossed her a dimpled smile. “So you caught that, huh?”

  “Hard to miss it.”

  “I want to hire you.” Rachael twisted in her seat and fumbled with the seat belt connection until it clicked into place.

  “Excuse me?” Angel checked her rearview mirror and backed out of her parking place.

  “You’re already involved, and unless I miss my guess, you’re hesitant to do much investigating because of your leave status with the PD.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s none of my business, and look at me. I guess it’s true what they say, once a cop, always a cop. I should leave it alone, but here I am questioning Candace and Gracie and telling Nick he’s rushing to judgment.” Angel shook her head. “Maybe it’s in my blood.”

  “Of course it is. You’re also chomping at the bit to find out what really happened. So do it. I’d like you to investigate Jenkins’s death as my private investigator. The Sunset Cove PD is convinced they have their man—or woman, as it turns out.”

  The offer surprised Angel, but she liked the idea. Liked it a lot. “But I’m not a detective.”

  “With a little paperwork you could be, but you can be my assistant until then. We have a lot of people to contact, and it would take me forever to do it. I have several cases right now and court dates. I need you.”

  Angel chewed on her lip. “Would I get paid?”